


Dion’s Story

by Izzycle



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Backstory, Fan Apprentice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzycle/pseuds/Izzycle
Summary: The events of the game, but if it were Dion who is the apprentice
Kudos: 2





	Dion’s Story

Sat on the banister, set up with some of his many pillows, Dion looks out of the window - out at the fog spreading over the street. The soft, almost-smoke giving the street a tranquil feeling.

Sighing, he pulls the curtains shut, and turns to focus on something about to happen, something he knew would be much less tranquil.

The tension in the air is thick, and as Dion meets Asra’s eyes, his hand instinctually claps to the amethyst pendant around his neck, seeking for some sort of calming energy to keep him from breaking down.

No words had been said, but he knew the distant look in Asra’s eye - the one he gets before he goes away on another adventure, or so he says. Dion can’t convince himself that this disappearing act isn’t just an excuse to get away from him.

Asra moves as if to step forward, but hesitates, foot in the air, before he retreats back to the same spot, a sheepish smile on his face as he looks to the side.

“I’ll miss you...”

_They were just words to Dion, said over and over until they lost all meaning. Asra didn't miss him, Asra wouldn’t leave so often if he actually wanted to spend time with him._

And yet, Dion couldn’t help but clench his jaw and whisper, “Must you leave tonight?”

He knew the answer, and knew there was no way he’d convince Asra to stay, but he wants to be selfish and to spend one more night together. One more night to pretend that he was an enjoyable presence to be around, or at least for another few hours.

“It’s the dead of a moonless night,” he whispers, before finally meeting Dion’s eyes, “the right time for the beginning of a journey.”

His eyes seem to twinkle in the low lamplight, and Dion found his breath catching, almost hiding the dull ache in his chest.

There’s a moment of pause while Asra chews on his bottom lip, “Here, take this... for you to... play around with when I’m gone...”

_A gift? How unusual..._

Dion was thankful that he didn't let his excitement emerge because he reaches out to receive... Asra’s tarot deck.

It wasn’t something he expected to receive, he had no talent in fortune-telling - that job was on Asra’s shoulders. Whereas, Dion was the crystal and knitting expert, hiding away in the upstairs rooms to not come into contact with others, labelling everything for Asra to sell.

_Of course, the deck was special in its own way, Dion knew this, it’s just... he had no reason to be looking forward to such a gift. It was created by Asra, and so it had great power, which meant that he would have to watch over it carefully... in its wrappings... on the bedside table..._

“My deck... for you to read...”

Dion startles a little, confusion clear on his face - Asra knew he was no good at this magic, and that he had never practices alone...

“I... um... you think... you think I’m _ready_ , master...?” He stumbles out, heart beating at the expectation of doing something he knew he was no good at.

Asra face reddens, as his eyes dart to the side, uncomfortable, “You’re still calling me that...” he clears his throat, going back into his mysterious persona, “You know I cant answer that for you. You’ve made incredible progress but you still wont let go of your doubt. Do _you_ think you’re ready?”

A grimace makes it way cross Dion’s face; a general answer, of course, to something they both knew wasn’t a good idea.

_Dion may be anxious about his abilities, but no amount of practice ever helped with readings, and the fact that Asra wants to pretend that he was to.. to not hurt his feelings? It made him feel very small._

“You do know how to use them, Dion... whether you believe it or not... come...”

Asra turns without another word and pulls back the curtain, leading to the back room

“Let’s see how well you can read now...”

Silently, Dion follows, small stature even smaller with how he almost curls into himself, arms wrap around his body tight and he shuffles awkwardly along, blushing at the small squeak his bare feet make across the laminated floors.

As soon as Dion sits down, Faust, (sensing Dion’s distress,) brushes against his ankle to announce her presence.

“Oh?” Asra reaches down, pulling the long, lilac serpent up to wind up his arm.

Flicking her tongue, she slides across the table, to nestle amongst Dion’s scarf, using her weight to help centre him a little to fight against his anxiety.

Taking a shaking breath, Dion starts to shuffle the cards, knowing that there is no point in fighting this, and spreads three in a triangle on the table. Closing his eyes, Dion reaches out, his frayed, fingerless, gloves hovering above the cards, waiting for a pull to tell him which to turn over. It takes some time, but the feeling is there, faintly, and he flips it around to show the High Priestess.

Asra leans forward to see the card, silent as he patiently waits for Dion’s answer, but he struggles to make anything out.

“Is she speaking to you now?” Asra whispers, peering over with a small amount of worry over how long it is taking Dion to find a response.

“Y...Yes... I think...”

His eyes and nose scrunch up in concentration, causing Asra to have to cover his smirk in response to the cuteness. He knew that if he were caught, it would only embarrass Dion, and he was only just working through his anxiety to do this reading - he didn’t need anything adding onto that.

_There, in the back of his mind, a tiny an faint voice speaks, difficult to hear at all but..._

“You’ve forsaken her...”

Asra’s eyes widen, while Dion’s seem to scrunch up even more in concentration.

“I... I have...?”

“Yes... you... you’ve pushed her away... you’ve... you've buried her voice...”

Asra stays quiet, allowing Dion to concentrate on the voice and finish the message he was struggling so hard to grasp

“She.. she calls out, but you wont listen. If.... if you ignore her...”

Dion is cut off by a sharp knocking at the front door, face draining of blood at the prospect of someone there.

Asra smirks, “Did you forget to put out the lantern again? Just as well...” he starts to gather up his things, wrapping a scarf around his lower face and neck, one of the very few Dion hadn’t knitted. Of course, Dion knew he hadn’t left the lantern on, in fact he hadn’t even _put_ it on in days - much preferring to allow Asra to control the shop whenever he was back. It stayed off whenever he wasn’t to avoid having to be in contact with any people.

“Well then... take care of yourself, Dion...”

Asra looks as if he has something to say, but seeing the slowly hardening look in Dion’s eyes - the one protecting him from being to broken over yet another abandonment - he stops, and moves away to the back door.

He has barely left before the knocking starts once again, causing Dion’s heart to stutter, making him wish that he still had Faust”s comforting presence.

He peers out the window, seeing someone wrapped tightly in a shawl, face hidden as they nervously peer down the street.

 _Of course, he wishes that he could just ignore it, ignore the problem and for it to go away, but instead Dion takes a deep breath and opens the door, knowing he wouldn’t forgive himself if this person were in trouble._

The moment the door opens, the figure rushes inside without a word, and begins unwrapping the shawl, their body held in a confident way that left Dion stood, too startled to act or speak.

They peer down at him, before clearing their throat, “Forgive me for the hour, but I will not suffer another sleepless night.”

The cloth finally falls away from their face, and his frozen heart leaps to his throat instead.

_The Countess Nadia?_

He still says nothing, and taking pity, the Countess continues, “Please, you must read the cards for me...”

_The cards...? Oh-_

“You must be after Master Asra, I’m sorry but... he just left on a journey and... and I don't know when he’ll be back...”

Dion’s voice falters a little at the end, and his face grows hot as he hopes that it was not noticeable.

She shakes her head, “that is a shame, but I must receive a reading, and therefore it must be you. Though in my dream you were... different... it is still you who I must see...” Her already confident body straightens even more, “I come with a proposal.”

_Two readings in one day?_

His body drains of energy at the thought, wishing Asra had taken the cards with him. _It would leave him with a reason to be unable to do it, as he knew the fact he didn’t want to, would be enough of a deterant. Not that he would even have been able to bring himself to say no._

He then blinks, as the Countess’ words start to sink in, “A dream?”

“Yes, an unwelcome ability I have come to possess. My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you...” she pauses, anger flashing across her features, “is one I will not allow to pass...”

Dion nods, looking almost as if he were in thought, when his mind wasactually blank, struggling to process what is going on.

“And... what’s... what’s the proposal?” Realising that he has been looking down at his feet the whole conversation, he tries to lift his head higher; and failing that, he looks to the side instead,

The nervous posture of him causes the Countess to chuckle, “Are you nervous, perhaps? You needn’t be. I require very little of you...” Their eyes meet for a short second, before Dion’s dart to the side again, “Come to the palace, and be my guest for a short while... you will be afforded every luxury of course...”

_Why... why would the Countess need him? He was a lowly apprentice, barely able to follow in his master’s footsteps, let alone be around others without feeling like he would faint._

“I only ask that you bring your skill, and the arcana. I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow.”

_Oh... was he wanted as an advisor? To help accompany these prophetic dreams of hers? It sounds ridiculous... maybe if it were Asra she had caught, but not Dion._

“But before that... I want to see those talents of yours myself... shall we do a reading?”

 _Talents?_ If Dion was more of an outspoken person, he would have laughed at that. His talents were collecting an incredible amount of crystals, and knit a blanket, not read fortunes. But under her gaze, he found himself being ushered into the back room nice again, unable to say no.

_Why can he never say no?_

She sits herself by the small reading table, as he eyes dart around the room - causing Dion to blush intensely. This minimalistic space would be nowhere near the level of luxury the Countess must be used to.

Dion sits down across from her, focusing on his deep breaths as he tries to stop his hands shaking noticeably as they shuffle the cards. Once again he lays them out in a triangle and searches for the pull of the card he is meant to flip.

Opening his eyes, he clears his throat awkwardly, “The Magician...”

“How very appropriate.. and what does the Magician hold for me?”

Again, he focuses, the voice just as hard to reach out for as The High Priestess’. But the Countess remains patient as he concentrates, face burning almost in exertion for it, before he can finally hear the voice

“You have a plan... one.. a plan that’s important to you...”

“And? Should I set it in motion?”

Her curious voice almost tempts him to open his eyes, but he represses the urge out of fear of losing the voice, one which is speaking a simple, yes

Dion nods, sweating slightly from the ordeal and wishing he could lay down and avoid human contact for the next few days, or weeks.

Her eyes assess him, seemingly piercing down to the centre of his being, “Say no more...”

She abruptly stands, throwing back the curtains and striding to the front door.

“Your fortunes are straight forward, much the same as the others I've heard. And yet you are the first to peak my interest”

Once finishing the sentence, she has already made it to the front door, and is winding the shawl back around to cover her face, before clearing her thought and purposefully looking towards the door.

Shuffling along in embarrassment, Dion opens it, eyes averted.

“I will see you tomorrow then... at the palace... pleasant dreams.”

She glides past Dion, who stands frozen watching as she almost vanishes into the fog - before starts, remembering that he never agreed to go to the palace,kicking himself for being unable to be outspoken.

Turning back to the shop, Dion thinks dreamily of his bed, and collapsing, hoping that p this is a dream, when a harsh muffled voice breaks through the haze.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep...”

His head whips to the side, chasing the shadows the jars and pots left around the shop, looking for a figure.

“Behind you...”

He jumps, before turning, legs shaking violently as he does so. A large figure looms over him, arms crossed and wearing a plague mask; red jewelled eyes shimmering in the low light.

“So.. _this_ is the witch’s lair... then, who might _you_ be?” He moves forward and Dion’s heart races. He may have been anxious before, but it didn't compare to the panic that he felt right now.

He reaches frantically to the counter behind him, trying to stay stable enough to stay on his feet, frantic breaths not helping with the lightheadedness he was feeling.

“W-wh-who’s asking?” Dion manages to say, his tongue thick and heavy.

The figure moves forward again, “I’m asking, I’d rather not do it again.”

All Dion hears is the squeal of leather, before his sight darkens and he collapses to the floor... Or at least to something hard, as the figure rushes forward to catch his slumped body.

“Up-up-up” he mutters, bringing the limp body to the floor in time for Dion to open his eyes and look at the now unmasked face.

A hand flits towards his forehead, before it retreats back, “Are you - “ he clears his throat, large smirk spreading across his face, “As I suspected, shock, horror. You know who I am, don't you?”

He didn’t. If he had left home often enough, he might have recognised the face from wanted posters around the city, but Dion was a shut-in, and the only horror he was, rightfully, feeling was over the menacing figure that had broken into the shop.

Startling, Dion shuffles backwards, hitting against the counter roughly, “no I...I... _please_ leave...” his eyes threaten to spill with tears, and he angrily wipes them away, hating how weak he looks in front of this threatening figure.

_Where was Asra when he needs him? Why hadn’t he noticed... why hadn’t Asra locked the door..._

A blush forms across the person’s face, as they avoid Dion’s teary gaze, “I’m sorry I... I didn’t mean to cause harm... I will leave, don’t worry -“ he stands before pausing between the door and counter, “but I did come here for answers... so shall I ask for a reading? That _is_ what that room in the back is _for_ , isn’t it?”

Dion nods his head shakily and the figure moves to grab the cards left on the table from the previous reading and hands them to Dion, “Tell my fortune and I’ll leave you in peace...”

“I... I don't know... your name...” he whispers, “I need it to..”

The figure smirks, “Yes - _Ahem_... yes... you can call me, Julian...”

Slowly, Dion starts to shuffle the cards, hands clumsy from the panic which had not lifted, despite “Julian” almost changing personalities once he fainted. Not even spreading them out, Dion feels a pull mid-shuffle, and flips over the card.

“Death”

Before Dion can attempt to recover a meaning, Julian is barking with uncontrollable laughter, turning away from the cards and clutching his coat front dramatically.

“Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me”

He strides to the door without a look, and although Dion wants to tell him his meaning was incorrect, he still can’t force any words out.

“You’ve been hospitable... “ he starts, before shaking his head, “you have dealt with the pain which follows me around like the wretched sheep it is, so I will let you I on a secret...”

He looks away with dramatics, eyes to the heavens, “Your witch friend will be back for you, he’s taught you his tricks. _You may even say he cares for you..._ but when he returns... seek me out, _for your own sake._ ”

The plague mask is put onto his head once again before he continues, “Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.” He throws the door open, and slams it shut behind him, leaving Dion cradling his legs, still on the floor, as he lets the tears finally fall.

Sobbing, he makes his way to the door, checking and rechecking the locks, and leaving more protective charms than usual, before repeating on the back door.

Although he knew he would have little sleep that night, Dion makes his way up the stairs to bed, hands clinging onto the banister for support. He climbs under the blankets, hiding his face underneath. Almost as kids do to protect themselves from monsters - it’s just that this monster was a real person... and Dion no longer felt safe in the place where he used to hide from the world.


End file.
